


Resident Evil 8: Village

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Explicit Language, F/M, Fear, Half-Vampires, Hallucinations, Mythology - Freeform, Near Death Experiences, Psychological Torture, Torture, Werewolves, resident evil 8 - freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: His story comes to an end. What end? That’s up to a village filled with lies and bathed in blood.
Relationships: Leon S. Kennedy/Claire Redfield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Village**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-Tall Tales-**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Forest Deep**

* * *

"Long ago, a young girl went with her mother to pick berries for her father who was hard at work...but the forest greeted them with dark, cold silence...bushes empty. Yet, determined to find the berries the rascal broke free of mother's grasp and vanished into the trees. Mother's worried cries faded fast as the girl ran on...over vine, under branch...and into the forest deep."

The small sound of amusement from the kitchen had Claire looking up from the storybook spread open on the lap of her and the small redheaded girl in her lap. "...is this funny, Mr. Kennedy?"

Strapping on his shoulder holster, Leon returned with wry good humor, "You and those stories...what's this one about exactly?"

"...it's just a fairy tale."

"Yeah? From where?"

She kissed the temple of the sleepy child she held so close, "Romania. It's about an ugly old hag that lives in the forest and protects it from those who would do it harm."

Leon's handsome face caught the light from the kitchen stove and never failed to take her breath away as he remarked, "...you reading cautionary tales to our kid over there?"

"Never hurts to be cautious, does it, sweet girl?"

In her lap, Gianna, affectionately called Gigi by her parents, sighed with tired features. Her small thumb poked between her lips, a sure indicator that she was exhausted and close to going down for the night. Leon paused at the side of the couch, leaned over, and kissed his daughter's red curls. "I don't think we need to worry about this one running into any forests where evil things dwell."

Claire gave him a warm smile, "Not with you to protect her."

He winked and rose to inform her, "Don't wait up, ok? I figure this meeting will take all night."

Claire rolled her eyes, "More stuff with that mess in Ohio?"

"Gotta close down all the mayhem that happened. Just part of the deal."

"You never were clear on what it was."

Leon paused at the door and gave her a thoughtful expression, "Still unclear. It wasn't like anything we've come across before." He didn't like saying it. He liked even less hearing it out loud, "Somebody's playing god again."

Claire shook her head with a note of exhaustion in her tone, "Never ends, does it, baby?"

Leon gave her a wink in return, "Easier to handle when you've got something to come home to."

He had a point. After nearly losing his life on that rooftop in New York stopping the A-Virus, he'd woken up in the hospital afterward a man with new convictions. He could drink his life away and have everything he'd done be for nothing...or he could _live_ his life the way he'd always intended. So, he'd stopped running scared and pulled his balls out of his back pocket of finally go after the thing he'd been wanting for years - Claire.

He'd bought her a coffee, gotten her naked, and shown her what he'd been wasting on countless faceless bartenders for the last couple decades. She'd been more than ready to take to his bed, and less ready for the pregnancy that had followed. However, in true fashion, they'd both rebounded with aplomb. Gigi had arrived a short nine months after their first roll in the sack together.

They were still feeling their way together as a couple while juggling parenting, but he had to admit - it was the happiness nine months of his life. The short year since then had flown by until he woke up one morning and just realized he was happy. He was. He was simply content in a way he hadn't been in years. He wasn't sure what awakening Chris had fed him that day in Colorado Springs, but it brought him back from the edge of a very dark cliff with a very steep fall. Sparing New York from Glenn Arias had worked like a charm to remind him why he was fighting.

The little toddler on her mother's lap had driven home the urge to remember why he was _living._

Smiling softly at him, Claire encouraged, "Be careful, ok? And wake me up when you get in. I don't care what time it is."

He wouldn't, he couldn't bear to rouse her when she looked like an angel sleeping. So? He lied, "You bet. Try some Dr. Seuss after reading her that dark shit, would ya?"

Claire chuckled lightly, "Sure thing. Why do you like Seuss so much anyway?"

"...I'm a poet and don't know it."

Claire winced with good humor and waved him away, "...quit while ahead, Kennedy. Beat it."

He was laughing as he shut the door. Claire gathered her daughter close to finish the story, but Gigi had fallen asleep in her lap. Carrying her gingerly, Claire took her up the stairs to her bedroom.

The little house was isolated on the outskirts of Falls Church, Virginia. It was a hop, skip, and a jump away from Washington D.C. where Leon served so sweetly as the Director of the Division of Security Operations. The job was more administrative than he liked, but he'd been careful to avoid too many dangerous missions since Gigi had been born. Claire had been happy to take a leave of absence from TerraSave to stay home for a while with Gigi.

It wasn't politically correct to say it out loud these days and she might lose her feminist card for thinking it, but she was glad to take the time off and be a mother. She'd honestly never thought she'd get the chance. As she laid their daughter in her crib, Claire adjusted the blankets on her small body and sighed with love.

She was so happy. She was always a little on edge about it. In their world, usually happiness came at a cost. What was their cost here? She and Leon had found each other later in life and started a family. They were good. Things were good. Good was always a precursor to horror when it came to survivors of Raccoon City.

The T-Phobos she carried usually didn't cross her mind. It hadn't even been an issue until she'd gotten pregnant. - The first time she'd had her blood drawn, she'd demanded the doctor check her levels to guarantee she could sustain a healthy pregnancy. She'd soared through with flying colors - easy time carrying, easy time delivering, easy time breastfeeding. It had all gone so simply.

There'd been nothing to worry about...until the morning Gigi had pulled herself up on the coffee table to start trying to walk. She'd grabbed the edge and lifted. She'd caught Leon's coffee cup with her sweet hand and tipped it over. The hot liquid had spilled all over the table and splattered on her face.

The cry had alerted Claire who'd been folding laundry. She'd grabbed for her daughter to find her face pink and splotches of welts signifying second degree burns. She'd run to get her car keys and take Gigi to the hospital, but by the time they reached the car...the burns were gone. A new kind of worry had set in when she'd carried the happy little girl back inside.

She'd passed something onto her daughter. She'd passed something through blood to the child. The realization had been a hard truth to swallow - Gigi was like Sherry. Gigi was a bioorganic weapon.

Leon refused to let Claire blame herself for it. He'd insisted that the plagas pieces he still carried and the exposure he'd experienced had likely warped his own DNA somewhere along the way. He'd held her and sworn, "It doesn't matter. Look at me, Claire. Do you love Sherry any less for it?"

The redhead had shaken her worried head no so Leon finished, "Exactly. She's special...you cannot tell anyone. Do you hear me?"

Claire had nodded rapidly and vowed, "I would never. You know that."

"Not anyone, Claire. I mean it."

She'd kept her promise. She'd told no one. Until Moira had babysat one afternoon and informed them when they'd gotten back from the movie they'd gone to see that Gigi had fallen down and smacked her head on a barstool...and somehow the knot that had been there had disappeared while she'd watched. Claire had sworn Moira to silence about it. She'd practically begged.

Barry Burton's affable but mouthy daughter had returned, "You fucking kidding? That's the coolest shit ever. I won't say a peep. Scout's honor."

Claire believed her. Moira was loyal to a fault. She'd never do anything to risk Gigi's safety.

So far, things were smooth sailing. Gigi seemed completely normal save for the ability to heal. She babbled like a toddler. She learned like one. She didn't seem odd or unusual or appear to be growing an eyeball from her shoulder. All, it seemed, was well in their world.

As Claire ran a bath to relax, she realized that the story about the old hag - Muma Padurii - might have been a cautionary tale for her instead of her daughter. It suggested never venturing beyond your world too far. It said to never take for granted the safety you thought you had.

She thought she was safe in her world.

She should have known there was no place safe for any of them.

She was just letting her hair down when the security system started blaring. There was a large rending noise as the front door was literally ripped from its hinges. Claire raced first for her gun in her bureau drawer and second for her child in the room beside hers. She might have faced the threat with more courage until she heard the growling.

Whatever was in her living room, it wasn't human. It couldn't be reasoned with or scared away. It wasn't going to run when she waved a gun at it.

Claire closed and locked Gigi's door and gathered the child to move into the closet. They curled in the dark with Claire holding the gun on slatted barrier while the light from the night lamp across the room flickered over her determined face. The phone on the floor reached Leon's voicemail and she hung up without a word.

The next call was made to her brother. If she couldn't reach one, she'd be sure to get the other. Chris answered and Claire whispered, "...someone's in the house...help me."

He simply told her, "Hide. I'm coming."

Claire kept that gun on the door unwavering. She felt Gigi stir and wrestle to be free of her mother's grip. The redhead soothed her, murmuring, "Quiet, baby girl. Quiet for mama."

And then?

A voice that shouldn't have been in her house called out in a sing-song tone, "Clllllaireeee...I know you're here. Why don't you come out and say hello?"

Natalia? What was Barry's adopted daughter doing breaking into their home? The girl had grown to a bright, beautiful, and capable young woman...but what was she doing with snarling things in her living room?

None of it made sense.

Claire simply dialed 911 next and let the call stay open as Natalia called again, "Claire- I know what's inside of you. I know what your child will become. How can you protect her? How can you stop the change? The first time it knows fear, it will ascend to what it's meant to be. It will destroy your world by simply existing...first you, then your husband, then your entire family."

The horror settled around where Claire huddled. _I know what's inside you._ What did that mean!? What did she want?

But that answer was coming too as Natalia cooed, "Come with me, Claire. Make this easy. I will take you both. I will let you realize your full potential. You can be so much more than a boring suburban house wife. You can be a wonderful goddess beside me! Won't that be fun?"

After the silence that met her question, Natalia's tone changed to hateful, cruel, and dripping with rage, "Bitch! Did you think you could stop me!? Did you think you'd finished me off on that island! You and your brother took mine and murdered him! I will tear your world down and watch you writhe in agony while it rots all around you!"

She wasn't Natalia. She wasn't Natalia at all. Somehow, someway...she was Alex Wesker. How!? Why!? When!? The questions were too many. The answers too few. The time was up.

The pounding on the door was coupled with snarling like dogs and snarfling noises that reminded Claire of wet snouts on wood. Her heart started pounding in her chest. What was the likelihood she could take them all with her gun? Chris, even if he raced for her, was somewhere too far to make it in time. She couldn't hold out here forever. She had to do something.

She started to lay Gigi down in the closet and Alex jeered, "I'm going to use her to make myself strong again. I'm going to drain her _dry_ and bathe in her blood to finally find the power to bring him _back."_

Jesus Christ...she wanted to resurrect Albert Wesker. The horror ate around the edges of the world with bites made of fear. Claire felt her heart seize in her chest. Alex wanted to use Gigi to somehow, someway...bring him back. It wasn't possible. It couldn't. She wouldn't be the first or the last to try. It was simply too far fetched for even the most evil mastermind to muster.

It wasn't possible...was it? Could it be? The regenerative powers of Gigi were like Sherry. Surely, she'd have tried by now to use Sherry's blood to bring him back...unless...maybe...what if it had to be a child _born_ with mutated DNA? Sherry had survived exposure and been gifted with complex healing. What if Gigi was capable of...more?

They'd take her and use her and abuse her and turn her into a guinea pig. She'd be gutted and drained dry and experimented on. They'd destroy her trying to bring back a madman. Claire felt the fire of rage hit the fear and battle for control. She'd die before she'd let that bitch take her!

A high pitched squealing sound split the air. Claire covered her one ear with the hand not holding Gigi. She thought her daughter would start weeping from the intrusion, but she didn't. She opened her eyes and they were blood red. Her teeth started to sharpen as Claire watched in horror. She clutched her mother and whimpered painfully.

Claire whispered, "...no. Oh god..."

The noise was forcing some kind of change within her daughter. It was activating something she had no name for. Claire felt her hand release her own child and let her lay on the floor of the closet. Gigi bowed, whining in her throat. She clutched wildly at her own hair.

Claire felt the gun turn on her own child instinctively.

She froze as the horror turned to fear and buried the rage beneath it. The child was _hers._ It was her baby girl. It was her blood. How could she turn her own gun on it!? Because it wasn't just her baby girl..it was something else. The baby reached for her and Claire whispered, "...oh god help me...I'm so sorry."

She clutched the child for a moment before something in her chest tightened. The fear turned to terror as she whispered again, "...oh, Leon...Leon, I'm so sorry...I'm sorry."

Gigi whimpered sadly where she clutched her mama as the noise finally stopped. Claire felt tears on her cheeks as she told her daughter, "...I'm so sorry..."

It wasn't Gigi turning that scared her...it was _her. T-Phobos activated from fear._ The terror for her child and the image in her head of that child eating Leon while he screamed and failed to fight back...it finally did what Alex had failed to do all those years ago on that island...it made Claire Redfield choke on her fear.

Her ribs felt like they'd rupture with the pain. Claire screamed and Gigi whimpered in fear. There was a crack of her shoulder popping out of place. She was changing. She was _changing. She was turning._

The horror of it was the worst she'd ever known. The pain hit the terror and Claire, afraid for her child, shoved the baby out of the closet onto the floor where the little girl wept copiously and without any understanding as to why her mother had simply turned her away. Claire cried helplessly, tossing herself against the wall as she grabbed for anything she could find to try to bind her own hands and spare her child.

She shouted, voice breaking as her spine started to bow, "RUN, GIGI! RUN!"

Gigi was only a year old. Her comprehension simply didn't allow for that kind of thing. She couldn't understand. She didn't know. She couldn't listen and obey. The bedroom door was kicked open and Claire screamed and shot through the closet door at the motion that entered the jagged light, careful to avoid where she knew her daughter lay on the floor.

Something wailed in pain as it was struck and Claire's elbow snapped wetly as it was jerked out of place by the change. She collapsed against the wall, sliding to the floor as she vowed uselessly, "You touch her I will _kill you!"_

Alex clicked her tongue as she knelt to pick up the child, "You'll do nothing. Feel the fear, you stupid girl, and die like you should have the moment you awoke on that island. I have what I need of you...rot inside your own cage of terror."

Claire heard the sound of her leaving. She screamed, body jerking as blood sprayed the pretty pink wall as her lungs simply filled with it and it came out of her mouth as she coughed desperately. She tried to crawl free and maybe, maybe, maybe reach her child. Her phone tinkled prettily on the ground playing Leon's signature ringtone of _Hot Bloode_ d by Foreigner...and she swiped to answer it.

She collapsed to her side as something in her chest ruptured and blood spilled wetly down her cheeks with the tears she couldn't stop. Leon's cheery voice greeted, "Miss me already, huh? Wanna facetime me something dirty and make my night?"

She gasped and gurgled. Her finger brushed a bit of blood over his handsome face in the picture there on her phone. After a handful of seconds, his tone changed completely, as he queried, "...Claire? Claire, honey? Are you there?"

She felt her spine snap, one vertebra at a time. She heard the sound of feet on the stairs. She wept silently now as the pain turned to a numbness form her ears to her ankles. Leon's voice demanded, high and scared, "CLAIRE! ANSWER ME! CLAIRE!?"

The light from the door faded as her hand slid over that handsome face one last time. The fear was gone. The pain was gone. The love remained. It was the last thing she felt before the rest of the world went dark.

The closet door was ripped open and her brother's horrified and grief-stricken face was the last thing she saw before he lifted his gun on her. She whimpered. Her eyes leaked tears as her hand lifted. He took it, his shaking madly, and he whispered, "...I love you."

Claire gasped once more and the sound of the gun was followed by the horrible rasp of her brother's broken tears.

Leon's voice echoed around the closet where Chris knelt in his sister's blood and clutched her body to him, rocking. "I'm coming Claire! You hear me!? Hold on!"

There was nothing left to hold onto. She was gone. She was lost. She was half turned into a monster in her brother's clinging embrace. He rocked her, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

And he rose from the ground covered in her blood and soaked in a rage so deep and wide it should have scorched the Earth where he walked.

His hand curled around the phone and he lifted it to his ear. His breathing qued the other man to query wildly, "Chris!?"

To which he simply replied, "I'm sorry, Leon."

He dropped the phone in her blood. He closed her eyes like they were delicate butterflies that might never flutter open again...and Leon's terrified shouting chased him from the room demanding, "What happened!? Where is she!? CHRIS! CHRIS!"

And then?

There was nothing but silence.


	2. Chapter 2

**Village**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-Tall Tales-**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Women**

* * *

He tumbled against the wall, shaking from withdrawals. His pulse was too fast, his breathing too ragged, his heart too broken to beat right. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and chugged, calming his nerves and clearing away the clarity that terrified him. He didn't want to think clearly.

He didn't want to _remember._

The whiskey settled in his empty stomach. He leaned against the wall and made a sound of abject despair. He couldn't muster up the tears - he tried and came up dry heaving instead as if he'd vomit. He was simply too empty for crying. The only thing left inside his shell was grief.

He drowned that out with the booze.

His heart told him it was desperate for it all to end. It wanted peace. It wanted release. It wanted _Claire._

It would get none of those things.

Why?

Claire was dead.

Claire was dead on a slab in the morgue.

Claire was dead in the ground.

Claire...and the baby she'd carried.

The grief had teeth. It tore him apart and left him exposed, exsanguinated, and eviscerated. He was guts and blood and burning pain on the ground. She'd died carrying his baby. His baby, her baby, _their baby._ She was eight weeks pregnant.

The moment he'd found her body, half turned, half beautifully lost, half horribly slain...he'd nearly forgotten the most important thing...nowhere in the house was his daughter. His daughter was missing. His daughter was _still alive._

He'd been clutching Claire's body for so long his hands were numb when his trembling lips had uttered the words, "...get up... _now."_

_So he let her go and rose._

His hands were shaking and covered in her blood. His body moved on it's own accord, stumbling into the main part of the house to check the security camera. He saw it. He watched it happen. The moment he'd left and the peace that had been there until the world had shattered. Natalia...?! Natalia and her monsters taking his child from the floor as she'd wept. He'd seen the man known as "The Mountain" that shared Claire's eyes swoop in like a savior...too late...too fucking late...and finish off his mutating wife in a single set of shots.

As it happened, her hand lifted like a plea to her brother who rose above her like the wrath of God, and Leon whispered, "...no." Like it would stop it. As if it could. She collapsed, the blood pooled around her, and Chris sank to his knees to lift her against him.

Apparently, they'd both cuddled her corpse and wept.

It was the only thing that bound them in this moment because the rage that beat in his chest was like nothing he'd ever known. Chris had shot her while she lay on the ground pleading. He'd shot her in the head as if she were nothing more than another monster.

Leon had still been sitting there rewatching that moment over and over when the back up had arrived. They'd taken her. They'd combed his house. They'd pronounced him in shock and put him in the back of an ambulance like an invalid.

Gigi was missing. Gigi was out there, kidnapped, in the hands of a killer. Maybe Natalia hadn't pulled the trigger, but she'd stood there and forced fear into a woman still living with a virus in her that coupled to fear like a whore to a hundred dollar bill. Claire had turned and done the best she could to save her child.

Claire...who'd died on the ground pleading.

He started the digging the moment he could. He tugged lines and turned over stones to find answers. He'd started burning a pretty good path before they'd brought him the news. She'd had died carrying their second child.

He lost all the feeling his hands as if someone had severed his spinal cord. He found himself back at the bar in Colorado Springs, a mess, a disaster, a drunk without hope. He was in his own house this time and wasted in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

His world had no meaning.

He threw the bottle of whiskey at the fireplace. It whooshed wildly, trying to ignite the wall and he taunted, "That all you got!? Burn this fucker down around me... _I dare you!"_

No such luck. It seemed he'd live to see another dawn.

Another dawn without Claire.

He collapsed on his side on the couch.

He dreamed of Gigi bathed in her mother's blood. He dreamed of fire and a circle within a circle that ringed around something that might have been human once. He dreamed of chanting monks and midgets and parasites birthed from the backs of mutated monsters.

He woke soaked in sweat and on his face on the floor.

The hangover beat behind his eyes with a hammers endless strike. He groaned, rolling to his side to find balance on the coffee table and propel himself to his feet. What was he doing? His daughter was somewhere in the world terrified and alone and waiting for him.

Chris likely out there turning the world red in blood to find her.

While he was here...withering away like a hag in a forest without protection. He pictured Claire on the couch reading that story. He blinked twice to clear his tired eyes. Where had she gotten the book? He remembered something she'd said when he'd rolled in that evening from work.

_"Natalia gave me the greatest set of fairytales for Gigi."_

**_Natalia._ **

She was the key. She was the answer. What did the books have to do with it?

He found his way into the living room and picked up the books still scattered in the corner where most of Gigi's toys were. Different tales of things that didn't even attempt to soften themselves for children. It really was an American past time to turn most of the old tales "Disney" to spare delicate eyes.

He leafed through the one about the hag. It told of a village named Groazei where the people had become corrupt and filled with vanity. They wanted to burn the forest to free the sprites to work like slaves for their own greed.

The hag began leading their children to her to create some kind of army and over take the village. It was a dark tale offering the reader some idea of how to keep what's important and best to avoid vanity or greed. A cautionary tale at the very core.

He switched to the next one - a book about vampires essentially. As he read, he googled on his phone for the words that popped off each page. A website dedicated to Romanian myths drew his eye (*1).

It read: The existence of "strigoi" or evil spirits is famous folklore in the _Transylvanian village of Bran_. These evil spirits live normal lives by day and torment villagers by night. They are thought to be the inspiration to the famous work of Bram Stoker, who fictionalized the vampire with superhuman powers known as Count Dracula.

It went on to talk about Lakes of Sacrifices - One particular story states that several homes along with one church were submerged by floodwaters when an adjacent slope collapsed. At first, the residents of the nearby village of Tisa believed that the church bells were commemorating Easter on that fateful day. But it was later discovered that a natural catastrophe is what caused the incessant ringing.

It segued into a story of mass kidnapping of children. Detailing a specific tale that was familiar to everyone - The Pied Piper. Well, according to Romanian myths, the town of Hamelin was once infested with rats and this caused havoc amongst the residents of the area.

A mysterious piper agreed to fix the problem in exchange for cash. Unfortunately, when the situation was brought under control, the residents of Hamelin refused to compensate for his service. This made the piper furious and, in vengeance, he started playing a different tune which was enough to brainwash all the kids in town to follow him.

One thing remained clear in each tale and each story - a village was at the heart of the horror. The pictures and drawings that accompanied each shared a similar architectural element of carpathian villages - from white washed walls to thatched rooves that had somehow survived the test of time. By the time he reached the end of a row of photos, one thing remained glaringly obvious - the villages all looked nearly identical to the untrained eye.

Was it likely they were the same after all?

If Natalia had run to Romania with Gigi, why leave something so glaringly obvious behind about where she might have gone?

The answer to that was more simple that anything - she wanted him to follow. She had to. She had to know he would. Why not just leave a calling card by the door with an address on it?

He reached for the final story. The door bell drew his hand up short. Annoyed, Leon rose to move through the empty living room toward the call. He had one hand on the stock of his gun when the other revealed the person waiting on his porch.

"Ada."

She was beautiful. She was always beautiful, so this was nothing new. He studied her studious expression with some level of disdain. Why was she here, now, encroaching on his misery?

"Leon, long time, no see."

The red coat she wore concealed whatever confection waited beneath the heavy cloth. Her dark bob of hair was glossy and highlighted the perfect curve of her lips and eyes. He gave her a long suffering look, "What do you want, Ada? I'm busy."

"...are you? I didn't think it took much to self destruct."

He nearly shut the door in her face, but if she was there...she had something he needed. He was positive of that. Did she know where Gigi was? To curb the impulse to slam the door, he stepped back.

"Judge yourself, Wong. Tell me what you want and get lost."

Ada moved into his house like she lived there. She divested herself of her coat and hung it by the door. She was wear leather pants in black and a scarlet top in an oriental style with cranes and black piping. She looked, as always, flawless.

She perched on a stool in his kitchen and instructed, "Get a drink, Leon. You'll need it."

He gave her a filthy look, "I'm done with that."

"Oh? For how long? An hour now?"

If he could have melted her on the spot, his burning glare would have done it. "I'm not in the mood, Ada. So, no games. Ok? I just-" He trailed off and turned away, shaking his head, "Just not today."

Feeling something like sympathy, Ada sighed, "You have to forget about the loss. You've still got something to save here." She reached into her back pocket and removed an envelope. He watched her toss it on the counter.

With a brush of real anger, he accused, "Where were you, Ada? You're here now, but where were you before? You could have stopped this."

She gave him a cool look, "Could I? I'm not omnipotent, Leon. I can't see everything. I didn't know about Natalia."

"I find that hard to believe."

"It doesn't matter what you believe. I'm telling you the truth. I didn't know. I know now...so stop pouting and pick up the damn envelope."

He snatched it up, fuming, and tore it open. Inside, glossy photos spilled out into his hands. Natalia as a girl. Natalia as a teen. Natalia as a woman. No. NO. Not Natalia. Another blonde woman - pretty, yes, but not exactly the same. It took his mind a moment to make sense of it before he muttered, "Wesker?"

Ada gave him a cool look, "Wesker. The village in those photos was operated almost entirely by Blue Umbrella. Eveline - you read the reports Redfield filed on her from Dulvey, yes?"

"...of course."

"Eveline was the first of the E-Series, but she wasn't the last. They took some liberties with E-002. They tried to negate the rotting aspect of the mold properties and purify the subject...sadly, the best they could do was preserve her. She didn't progress past infancy and she needed protected. They set up agents in the town and utilized resources there to secure her. Sadly, for that damn town, it didn't have the clout to stop it from being usurped."

Leon lifted his gaze from the photos to her face as Ada clarified, "Wesker used outside help to take the town. She played on the fears of the town people and made it seem like she was there to save it from itself. The village collapsed under the pressure of superstition and Wesker's agents moved right in to set up a base of operations. Blue Umbrella couldn't keep a foothold and lost their advantage. In typical fashion, they underestimated foreign operatives need to thrive. What's there now...it was bred from a backwoods version of devotion to stories that existed long before science clarified the inadequacy of it all."

Leon flipped through more photos. The eerie sense of deja vu pursued him around his own memories. He'd seen what a village corrupted looked like before. He'd barely survived the last one. Why had Natalia taken Gigi there? If they have E-002, why did they need his daughter?

In answer to that, Ada told him, "Claire successfully stopped one form of Wesker on that island and seemingly halted T-Phobos, but she failed to kill her entirely. She transplanted her conscious into that little girl that Burton brought him to raise. Natalia is Alex Wesker."

They held gazes until he remarked, "I should be surprised, right? I should be shocked."

"...we both know it's not the worst thing you've ever heard."

"...so why take Gigi? Why not just use E-002?"

"Blue Umbrella secured her from The Connections, but they weren't able to stop her metamorphosis. My guess? Wesker needs Gigi's blood to instill some kind of anitbodies into the bloated infant they're harboring and create a stronger virus."

Leon drummed his fingers on the counter top beside him, "She was talking about the other Wesker when she came after Claire."

They held gazes as he added, "She was talking about needing Gigi for her brother. Why? Is it possible to put his conscious into the infant?"

Ada pursed her lips in thought, "Possibly, but the infant was female and last I heard - inferior. It wouldn't survive, from my research, even if infused with Gigi's blood. They need a stronger host."

He shook his head, "So, Gigi isn't the host either?"

"Potentially, I supposed she could be, but Wesker wouldn't really do well in a female shell. My guess is that Wesker might be attempting to something as simple as creating an offspring that she'll carry herself and transfer the conscious over. If she can manipulate the DNA to remain male, birthing her own brother's new host would make perfect sense given that she's in a body of a young, fertile, and very capable host herself."

Leon gave her a sharp look, "You think she's going to give birth to a new Albert Wesker?"

"I wouldn't put it past her. I think the only way to know for sure is to get there and raid that damn village to stop her. Whatever she's planning, it won't be good. Two Weskers on a war path is a terrifying concept. Each one nearly destroyed everything in their path the first time around."

Leon shook his head, "You're saying the village might be protecting them?"

"If Alex Wesker has set herself up as some kind of a mother of prophecy or fairy tale, I think you've got a fight on your hands."

It wouldn't be the first time he fought a village to save the world. It wouldn't be the last. This time? It was personal. All he had left in his own world was waiting there in those ramshackle houses beneath a layer of fear and superstition. He'd kill every last one of them to bring her home.

Quietly, Ada informed him, "I would suggest you keep an eye on the other Redfield as well."

Leon's brow furrowed as she finished, "The whispers say he's lost it. He's taken loyal groups of cronies and killed three potential informants for The Connections. Apparently, he's not looking to make informed decisions here. He's just hunting for revenge."

Leon felt a shiver of understanding. Was he any different? Truly? If he had the men at his disposal and the resources, would he scorch the Earth in her memory? Even though he knew she'd never condone or forgive it?

The men involved in both the cover up of the E-Series and the failure to contain it...from Blue Umbrella to The Connections...were they really innocent? Did they deserve mercy or understanding? Was Chris on the war path...or the _right_ path?

Leon studied his haggard reflection in the shiny face of the refrigerator. What was the right path? What if it all led him to Gigi? What would he risk or destroy to recover her? What would he give up to hold her again?

Ada gave him a long, knowing look, "Don't forget who you are."

Surprised, they held eyes while the memory of what they'd been hummed between them. She'd never been the love of his life. That was six feet under somewhere and lost to him. She'd never been more than a fantasy from the whim of a man without hope. She wasn't a lover, she wasn't a friend, she wasn't more than an informant now.

But part of her would always know him better than Claire ever had. She saw his darkness. She accepted his nooks and crannies filled with lies and deceit. She knew, under the guise, a hardened soul festered with rot. Claire had seen the good in him. She'd brought it out with hands that held instead of hurried. Ada...she cultivated lies like a criminal. She forced him to face reality with a nearly careless sense of right and wrong. Her right was never his.

And now Chris was on a path laden with landmines made of deception. He'd never find his way back from it. Even as he stood there facing his own darkness, Leon knew part of Chris had died in Edonia and never really come back. Losing Claire...it was the nail in the coffin of what he'd been trying so hard to hold onto. He was gone. The question was...was there anything left of him worth saving?

Could he save the brother to honor the sister? Could he pull Chris back? Or would he simply descend into the dark with him to die? Was Ada somehow the key to his own preservation?

Was she offering him a mission to save his daughter, to save Chris, as a way of keeping him from collapsing on himself like a dying star?

The old urge to grab her and turn her over the table to fuck her worked around his guts. It was stalled by a need to take Claire in his arms and hold her. Claire had always been waiting under the murky cover of Ada for him to find himself. She was lost to him.

Was all he had left in this world Ada?

A scary thought. A sobering one. The first real moment of clarity he'd had in days.

He told her, gruffly, "Thank you for the info...I'm good here."

Ada scanned his countenance. She resisted the urge to touch his arm and offering sympathy. Pity didn't motivate a man like Leon Kennedy. It left him chomping at the bit in festering rage. She'd either damn them both or cripple him with any kind of real emotion.

So, instead, she told him, "My sources saw her..."

His brows winged up, "Whom?"

She gave him a cool look, "Your daughter. As of twelve hours ago, she was alive. I can't offer you the promise she'll be for long."

It was more than he'd expected. He nodded and gripped the pictures on the counter. "Where?"

"Moarte...a fitting name for a town drenched in death. You can get there with this."

She tossed him a set of keys. Their gazes held for long enough that she finally broke the silence, "...don't wreck it, hotshot."

His mouth twitched giving her the first hope he just might survive the redhead's death. She'd do what she could to help him. Her resources were limited when it came to Blue Umbrella. She'd yet to get a foothold with any of their agents.

She suspected that the BSAA had plants in Moarte as well. She was hoping one would turn up to help Kennedy before Redfield laid waste to it all in a journey of destruction and revenge. She was hoping Leon had one more man against the world mission in him.

She was reluctant to bury him if he lost the child. She knew, he knew, that Gigi's death would be his own. Hell, he'd barely come back from losing Claire. She was almost positive losing his daughter would be the last rung on a ladder that dropped into nothing.

When he stared at her, she backed up two paces and finished, "Good luck...you'll need it."

"Ada...thank you."

She shrugged that away as she headed for the door, offering one more piece of advice, "...trust no one, Leon...and come back alive."

Leon watched her go with his heart racing. Alive...he was. He was alive with hope that just maybe this ended with his daughter once again in his arms. Could he do it? Could he save his world one more time?

He tossed the keys in the air and caught them with a jingle of sound. He had to let go of the one he'd lost. He had to save the one who'd been taken. He had to trust the one who'd often betrayed him. He had to kill the one who'd burnt his world all around him. He was surrounded by one very simple truth. His life wasn't his own.

It, quite simply, was ruled by, "...women."

And it was his destiny to always be buried in them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Village**

* * *

**Part One:**

**-Tall Tales-**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Deja Vu**

* * *

The crunch of tires on twigs and rock was a familiar sound to a tired set of ears. In the passenger seat, Leon shifted against the cold cloth trying to get comfortable. It had been a long drive from the wide stretch of road that had qualified as an airport in these parts. His contact wasn't exactly a rousing conversationalist either. He was some kind of ex-agent or something from god knew which branch of the government.

The accent sounded Slavic, so he was possibly Russian, but the ability to find out was a waste of time. Ada didn't hire or work with the kind of people who enjoyed talking. So, they rode in silence as he escorted Leon to the village. The hum familiarity felt ever present from the moment they'd landed near the long, seemingly endless forest.

The last time he'd landed in the middle of nowhere, he'd spent two days fighting for his life. Would this be any less demanding? He wasn't a twenty seven year old hotshot anymore. He'd survived things that would have made normal men give up and lay down to die. Did he leave this village a hero once more?

Or was this the place he'd finally come to lay down his sword?

The last time he'd had nothing to lose. Ashley Graham had been a good girl and worth the fight but she'd been the job. She was the mission. This time? It was personal. What waited in that village was what was left of his world. He'd use every skill they taught him to bring her home.

The little jalopy came to a stop at the edge of a small bridge. The ring of familiarity echoed in Leon's head again as he alighted from the far door. The man in the seat, all six foot four and two hundred pounds of him, informed him coolly, "They will never help you. What happens here...is between you and your soul."

They held eyes before Leon replied, "Then I guess I'm fucked...because I sold that a long time ago."

He closed the door on that dire warning and rose as the car circled through the trees and rode away. The bridge was little more than twine and planks. It stretched over a sad excuse for a river and a steep drop into nowhere. The cold tickled his nose as he walked.

The chilly air worked like a charm to heighten his awareness. He could see between trees and falling leaves toward the edge of the village. It sat sadly, forlorn and derelict, at the base of a massive castle. The gothic style was evident here in the Carpathian Mountains. The ogival arches and peaked roofs reached up into the steely gray sky like fingers from a grave.

He froze, brows arched at the imagery. Fingers from a grave? Did he see the village as a mass grave? He did. He wasn't sure why, but something told him there was little left to save down in the dilapidated patched roofs and failing stone walls. Evidence of poverty pervaded everywhere the eye could see. It was in the roads gone rutted with lack of repair. It was in the sagging scarecrows in fields turned brown with neglect. It was in the down turned faces of the poor as they moved through the narrow alleys between buildings pedaling their wares of making their way to the small church at the edge of the village.

Leon's hand itched to grip the pistol tucked safely under his coat against his chest. He'd left it unbuttoned enough to draw down without interruption, but the impulse was checked before he did it. So far, no one had offered violence as he crossed through the large village. He wore the gray tweed standing collar coat Claire had given him for Christmas over a thick Irish fishermen's sweater in oatmeal. Beneath that, a kevlar vest served as a shield between his white clad skin and death. Maybe he'd never really learned his lesson about coming in better armed to potentially dangerous situations, but he'd learned it pretty well regarding body armor.

The second gun on his ankle was the only concession they'd allowed him at the airport. He'd wanted something heavier, but apparently you were lucky to be able to carry anything at all in the village. They let him pass because Ada's agent had pulled some strings for him. However, having an assault rifle was simply out of the question. So, he had a 9mm at his ankle beneath his jeans and his Magnum tucked nicely inside his coat.

A lance of deja vu hit for the eighteenth time as he halted at the edge of an open barn and called quietly to the man hauling hay within it. Leon was careful to use the Transylvanian dialect of Romanian to attempt to put the man at ease. The man turned, looking tired and pale. He furrowed his brow at the picture of Natalia that Leon showed him.

He licked his lips and spoke only one word, "... _Zana_."

Leon shook his head, feeling a shiver at his spine. "...what does that mean? She's here?"

The man backed up, blinking rapidly. He glanced over and spotted the edge of the holster peaking out of Leon's jacket. His eyes flared with his nostrils. He blew out a fast breath.

Leon, attempting to salvage the exchange, soothed, "It's ok. I'm not here for you. I'm looking for my daughter."

The man pointed at him and cursed, "...incubus."

Well, he might not know what Zana was, but he knew that one. An incubus was a demon in male form sent to suck the souls from sleeping innocents. Leon felt a tremor of concern at the look on the man's face. "...no. No, I'm not here to cause any trouble. Have you seen this woman?"

"...no. Zana...no." The man whistled, "... _incubus! INCUBUS!"_

And just like that, Leon knew he wasn't welcome anymore. He resisted the urge still to draw his gun. If he was lucky, there was a way out of this without violence. These people weren't fighters, they were warriors; they were just looking for someone to blame for their pathetic lot in life. Clearly, Alex Wasker was their fairy godmother or something. He was looking for her. He was a stranger. He was a threat. They were damned sure not going to let him get close to her.

Damn them all. Let them try. He'd fight bare handed like Chris Redfield through this village if it meant he'd get to Gigi.

The first person through the barn door gave him a wide eyed look. It was a woman, pretty, with dark hair drawn back in a braid that trailed over one shoulder. She volleyed her gaze over his face and licked her lips. He wasn't entirely sure he was just looking for hope here, but it seemed like she flicked her gaze to the far wall to his right. Leon turned his attention, briefly, and found an open window there.

Yeah, no coincidence there at all. She was giving him a chance to run. She put her hand on the man's arm and soothed him while the rest of the villagers started to assemble at the bar door. Leon backed up until the window was close to his right.

"It doesn't have to go down this way. I don't have anything against any of you here..." A few started toward him with pitchforks. He shook his head, still desperate to keep the peace, "Please...I just want my daughter."

The pretty girl tilted her head at him. She worried her lips again and flicked her gaze at the window. Definitely offering him an escape route this time. Leon blew out a breath as two men aimed the pitchforks at him and kept coming.

He sighed and told them, "Ok...the hard way then."

They started running at him.

He dove out the window beside him with a clattering of shattering glass. He rolled as he hit the ground and found his feet easily. The short bump to the ground drove adrenaline into his guts with the fire of the fight.

He didn't draw the gun in his coat. They weren't there yet. He didn't want to kill anyone. He didn't really think these people were thinking clearly. He didn't want to escalate things.

He would, but he was hoping like hell it wouldn't come to that.

Leon hit the town square and called, "Stop! Listen! Last chance!"

One swung a pitchfork at him and Leon divested him of the weapon by simply ducking under the blow, sweeping up his wrists, and knocking the heavy weapon from his hands. It clattered on the ground, Leon swooped down to grab it, and he slapped the man upside the head to send him to his back in the mud. Out like a light, yes, but still alive.

The next one locked tines in a semblance of sword fight. The metal sang, Leon jerked roughly, and the dual was over in a moment. The other man staggered, Leon kicked him square in the crotch, and he went down howling in pain. A sharp jerk of the arms and he was slapped in the face with the pitchfork handle and put down beside his failed comrade.

Not fighters, nope, not even close. This town was simply farmers. They were trying like hell to stop him. Why? Why did they think he was an incubus? Had Alex warned them about him?

Likely. It was the only option. It was the only thing that made sen-

The roar drew his gaze up to the roof above him. He'd seen plenty in his time. He'd survived enough to never feel a moment of shock, but it didn't stop the blank to his brain that happened when Barry Burton came running over the roof above him looking grizzled and gray.

Leon shouted, "Burton!?"

Barry leaped off the roof and pulled something out thin air that looked like a cudgel the size of a man. Leon dove on instinct more than skill. He rolled, the goddamn thing struck the ground like a hammer of the gods, and he nearly lost his head. He backed up, and his gun was finally in his hands, as he shouted, "STOP!"

Barry twitched. His eyes flickered. His grizzled beard looked pathetic on a gray pallor. He dragged the cudgel on the ground like Pyramid Head or something. His huge arms bulged with muscle in the flannel red shirt he wore.

Leon tried once more, "...don't do it."

And Barry swung that damn cudgel. It whooshed, Leon shot him twice in the chest while it missed his nose by an inch, and Barry was blown backward off his feet to smear through the mud in a gush of blood. The villagers all froze, unwilling now to rush the man who'd executed their leader.

The rain drizzled down now, wet and frigid. Leon turned the gun on the huddled masses, "Alright, you assholes, start fucking talking! WHERE IS SHE!?" His shout echoed through the mountains, startling the pretty girl in the green dress.

She flicked her gaze at the castle behind him. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted to seperate her from the pack and get answers. She wanted to help him, clearly. Was she a BSAA plant in the village? Hadn't Ada said Blue Umbrella had agents still under cover?

Leon started to call out to her and Barry spasmed on the ground. His body jerked, flopping like a landed fish. Leon turned the gun back on him and Burton simply leaped up in the air so high it was like he had springs in his haunches.

He was airborne and came down on the roof above them, Leon's gun went off, and the bullet hit the meat of that body and made him roar. His face had elongated into some kind of muzzle, his hands had erupted into claws like a wolfman or something. He garbled out english from his mutated face, "Fool...there will be no mercy for you. Come see the gifts she gives."

He leaped again, the Magnum blasted him out of the air, and he came down anyway in a gush of blood. He landed behind Leon, who spun and whipped his leg around in a beautiful kick, for all the good it would do. Barry's mutated form caught his leg, lifted, and threw him like he wasn't a full grown man made of muscle. He threw him into the wall of the barn and it exploded around him, raining rotted wood and shrapnel down as Leon hit the ground and rolled.

He rolled to his back and didn't get the shot off as one of those clawed hands encircled his throat and lifted him off the ground. He gagged, choking as he dangled, angling the gun into the other man's sternum. Leon grunted as his vision went red and he wedged his weapon into the other man's breastbone.

Barry Burton the ginger wolfman was going to choke him to death. His arms were covered in fine red fur. His beard was red and gray fur. Fur, fur, fur and somehow soft even as it was pervasive. Leon's vision went red and white, scaring him, and his finger found the trigger against that massive chest.

He started to pull and a voice shouted, "LEON!"

And Barry threw him again. The gun went off and hit the hay beneath them with an echo of sound, Leon hit the back side of the barn this time and didn't go through, his back took the brunt of the hit but his head got the worst. He slid down, head spinning, and boots appeared on the ground beside him. Leon grabbed for his gun, two inches to his right, and a voice advised, "Don't. Jesus. Don't."

Burton, but just Burton this time, he knelt and gripped Leon's wrist with a warning, "...stay down...fuck...just stay down."

He was human again.

How?

How in the hell?

He'd never encountered a virus that could revert once it started mutating. It was unheard of in their world. He knew the plagas had some properties of control and Arias had found a way to command through viral replication, but reversion? It wasn't possible.

It was evident. Barry Burton's face flashed human as he looked at Leon sadly, "...I'm so damn sorry, Kennedy."

And the darkness won the fight. Leon went down wishing he'd brought the assault rifle anyway. Apparently, he still hadn't learned his lesson. When in doubt, guns...guns..guns.

* * *

The warmth was the first thing he remembered. It was soft and close to his skin like a kiss. Then it _was_ a kiss - a sweet one on his forehead.

He let his eyes drift open. The village was prosperous and rich with life. The trees bloomed and the beautiful roads were ripe with care. He could see laughing children running through the open spaces and hiding while their parents looked on with joy. Birds chirped happily in branches laden with lush green leaves.

His hand was happily clasped in hers. She leaned her head against his arm and sighed, "It's so beautiful here. Peaceful. We can just...rest, ya know?"

He nodded and kissed her forehead in return. She smelled like apples. Her lips lifted and laid against his, gentle, sweet. Sweet like the little girl cuddled in her lap sleeping. Leon inhaled the crisp clean air and knew a kind of happiness that he hadn't felt in so long. Here, with Claire, in this perfect and peaceful village...he was finally free.

She rose, guiding him to his feet as they started walking through the pretty little village. A dog barked playfully and spun in circles at the edge of the inviting forest. Gigi giggled in her mother's arms.

In the center of the village, an enormous tree rose toward the sky like a lightning strike. It draped shade and pretty dappled shadows around their feet as they gathered at the base. In the ground, a square shaped ditch waited for them.

Claire gestured to it and smiled at him, "It's so peaceful, ya know? We can finally rest."

She eased down into the ditch with Gigi in her arms. The little girl grinned up at him. Claire told him as the sun gilded her face, "...free."

_Free._

The chirping song of the bird became a garbled caw. He shook his head, denying it. A crow streaked over the sun and sounded his warning. The crow didn't belong here. The crow made no sense in the peace of it.

Claire told him, "Aren't you tired, Leon? We can rest here."

It wasn't a ditch. It was a grave. It was a grave at the base of the tree. A grave in the pretty village. The world warped in a skittering of sound and a flash of light. He grabbed the trunk of the tree and staggered as it died beneath his touch. The branches gnarled and the vines withered. The rotting started beneath the palm of his hand like he'd cursed it with his very flesh.

He shook his head, "...no."

Claire invited, "Give up, Leon...and be happy."

He pointed at her and begged, "...don't, Claire. Don't leave me."

She simply smiled, "...give up, Leon...and be free."

The village was rotting around him. It was now gray and depressing. It was thick with loss and regret. People wept in the street over bodies piled upon each other in death. A sickness had spread like a plague amongst the masses. The buildings were collapsing. The forest was stripped and sad - dying, defying the regrowth of a long spring. It tricked dead leaves to the ground in a final farewell.

The dog woofed once and fell to the ground. It jerked, moaning in pain. He backed up and the hand that touched the tree flicked out like it would block that dog. He whispered, "...Claire."

She returned, lying in the deep, dark Earth, "...we're waiting for you."

The dog was a wolfman now. It rose from the ground in a shimmer of pretty gold fur. The face was a muzzled filled a thousand dripping teeth. It's hugely muscled torso showed fingers gone long with claws. It dragged those arms on the ground like an ape as it stalked him.

He could climb in that grave and be free...or he could run. He backed up...and ran.

The wolfman chased him over the deadened ground. It roared, fast, faster, trumpeting the mountains with a blood thirsty rage. It tossed it's shaggy head and flashed ice blue eyes filled with hunger.

Leon shot it with his hand turned into a gun. It halted near the grave an had him shouting, "NO! NOT THEM! ME! COME FOR ME!"

And the wolfman garbled out in a low tone, "...it's so peaceful here...give up, Leon...and be happy."

He spat, "...never."

It came at him, thundering over the distance with a hunter's grace. It was somehow fascinating to watch. Leon braced himself to fight back. It warned him, "...aren't you tired, Leon? You can rest here."

It hit him broadside and sent him skidding over the Earth. The claws on its hands ripped into his chest. He screamed, high and loud, scrambling to grab for the gun he'd lost somewhere on the ground. It promised, leering above him, "...we're waiting for you."

He wedged the gun against its drooling jaws. It drove its fangs down at his face. He could pull the trigger and blow it away.

But he was so tired. He was so, so tired. He just wanted..to rest.

He whispered, "Claire..."

The gun bumped on the ground as the world ran red with blood.

* * *

The hand on his mouth had him gasping. He was bound in the chair and cold. His eyes flickered as a voice commanded, "...don't scream again."

Had he?

The voice was American and close to his ear. He tilted his eyes up and found the pretty dark haired girl in the green dress beside him. She let her lips brush the shell of his ear as she hissed, "You want them to come running? Stay quiet...please."

He simply nodded.

The ties on his wrists snapped softly. He lowered his tired arms and she whispered, "...I can't believe he spared you...I thought-I was sure he was too far gone. He's been in that place for months with her. I was convinced he was lost."

She gave Leon a considering look, "He remembered you the moment I shouted your name."

Who was she? How did she know him? In answer to that, she told him, "I'm Emily Winters."

Of course. Of course she was. Ethan's sister. He knew that Ethan's sister was the reason Chris had found them in Louisiana in time to save them. She'd been part of the BSAA for some time it seemed. Ethan's one phone call to her husband on the morning of his disappearance had prompted her swift response.

They'd known about the Bakers for some time before Mia had called out to her husband under Eveline's influence. The man power that had gone into keeping the shipwreck and the out lying areas concealed from public knowledge had been massive. Blue Umbrella, desperate to shield E-001, had stopped at nothing to bury the truth. Because, the truth was a web of lies and deceit that ended in a huge tanker in the middle of the bayou unnoticed by anyone for years. It was impossible.

It was easy enough to conceal with money. They'd known what was happening on that farm and let it. They'd been studying Eveline. The second Ethan had shown up and started shaking things loose, Blue Umbrella had dispatched Chris and his team there to seal the leak. Apparently, the moment they knew the BSAA was bound to get involved, Blue Umbrella had simply gotten there first. Proof, of course, that you could never, ever, trust Umbrella.

But Ada had told him that E-002 was supposedly protected within this village. Was Emily here as a guard turned fugitive? Was that her punishment for exposing Blue Umbrella's mess in the bayou? The Bakers and all their victims had been nothing but test subjects for the powers of Eveline. Was this village a testing ground for her successor?

Was Alex Wesker using this village to control her? Or was she controlling Alex?

Too many questions. No time for answers. Right now, all he cared about was getting to Gigi before she joined her mother in that grave. Claire, always a fighter, had given up so easily in that dream. Was it his subconscious telling him he was too tired to keep fighting? Was it suggesting he just lay down and die?

He wasn't built that way. He absolutely would not stop until Gigi was safe again. He'd rather fist fight a wolfman...or a boulder than just give up and let them win.

Beside him, Emily whispered again, "They'll be time for questions, but not now. Now we have to move. Now we have hours until sunrise to get out of this village. I need to know if I can trust you to do exactly as I say."

He gave her a cool look and whispered, "...following a lady's lead usually isn't my style."

She sighed, "You want to get into that castle? You want to find your daughter?"

He said nothing but she answered for him, "So cramp your style a little and try things my way. Your way nearly got you killed."

"You don't even know me...why should I trust you?"

"Maybe you shouldn't, but you got a better plan?"

"Maybe you're a lying bitch leading me to my own death. Maybe I should kill you and raid the castle myself."

She eased toward the edge of the barn and instructed him, "Your choice, but I know what you did for Chris Redfield in New York. He saved my brother's life...I'm doing this for him."

Great. Saved indirectly by Redfield. He'd never live it down. If, by chance, he survived this shit Redfield was going to lord it over him for the rest of their days.

He sighed and whispered, "What about my guns?"

She shook her head, "Gone. You've got your fists and wits...I hope they're better than your detective skills."

He blinked. She was implying he'd brought this on himself in that village. Maybe he had. He'd been careless, reckless almost, walking into town without a care or a worry. He'd been stupid and eager to find his daughter. He'd let emotion out weigh sense.

It was a rookie mistake, but then...under it all, wasn't he still somehow that rookie in a dying city? Had he ever really changed? After all, wasn't he chasing the ghost of the girl who'd saved his life that night?

_Aren't you tired, Leon?_

Her voice echoed in his head. He was. He was tired.

He was also no longer that rookie. He was a living legend. A bad ass. An institution. He was wits and fists and fight. He'd do it all, without a goddamn gun if that's what it took.

Emily nodded at him like she'd read his mind, "Good. Follow me. When I say hide, you hide. Agreed?"

He was also, it seemed, now Ashley Graham. He pictured himself leaping into a dumpster and almost laughed. The story of his life had somehow made him the damsel in distress.

With little option, he followed the leader out into the waiting dark.


End file.
